


YOUR INFLUENCE UPON THE BURNING, LUMINOUS BALL OF PLASMA THAT IS MY BODY

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-30
Updated: 2011-04-30
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine have always seemed to orbit each other, whether they realized it or not. It just takes them ten years to do something about it. Originally posted January 23, 2011</p>
            </blockquote>





	YOUR INFLUENCE UPON THE BURNING, LUMINOUS BALL OF PLASMA THAT IS MY BODY

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the erotic film I Want Your love. Beta'd but Ro and Sarah, titled by Ro.

They were supposed to go out to a club with a bunch of Blaine’s friends for Blaine's 26th birthday. They were supposed celebrate Blaine turning into an old man or starting his second quarter century or whatever reason they needed to get drunk and dance like they were still in college. They were supposed to have fun with a bunch of people around them til Kurt had to go back to New York.

Instead, they’re snowed in, alone, in Blaine’s tiny apartment in Chicago with Lady Gaga on in the background, a kitten named Katy, and the biggest fucking bottle of Captain Morgan money can buy.

They’re both on their third glass of rum when they start talking relationships. They can blame it on being drunk, sure. They can pretend that they're so drunk that they don’t know what they're saying. The truth is that four years of college took away any intolerance either of them might have had for the drink and it’s a conversation they should have had years ago.

“I broke up with Jack,” Kurt says. It’s out of his mouth before he can stop it. He hates talking about relationships with Blaine, hates bringing up exes, and hates naming names. There’s just something that hangs there whenever it comes up, when they talk love and loss - something that suspiciously feels like their long gone chance at romance, which neither of them realized had an expiration date.

It’s not like they didn’t know they were attracted to each other. Kurt knows it’s cliche, but he thinks that they just weren’t mature enough to handle the depth of their own feelings at that point. So they moved on to simpler relationships that were all about the sex and not about untangling the confusing emotions that went with them.

Blaine grunts and takes another long sip of his rum. “I know.”

Of course Blaine knows. They have mutual friends, and they both fervently stalk various social networking sites to get the latest gossip. Even if Kurt never told him outright, Blaine probably heard about it within hours of the actual break-up.

This doesn’t explain why Kurt deigns to explain himself, like words are vomiting from his mouth. “He was too needy. He didn’t have an opinion of his own. He needed to hear what I thought about everything and never once argued with me. It was annoying.”

Blaine laughs and twists to change the song on his mp3 player. “You get a guy who worships the ground you walk on and you don’t want him. Give me his phone number; I have a few friends looking for nice guys.”

Kurt huffs and falls back onto the bed, knees bent and staring at the ridiculous glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to Blaine’s ceiling. “I want a challenge. I want someone who will _fight_ me.”

“You never did learn that you didn’t need to scream to be heard,” Blaine says.

“I don’t scream, I project.”

They lay like that on the bed for what seems like hours, head-to-toe, staring at the ceiling in silence. Kurt tries to find constellations in the stars above his head, twists and turns this way and that to look at each grouping in a different angle. He took an astronomy class as a Freshman to get his natural science credit, and the professor made them memorize five constellations each class. It’s seven years later, though, and both Blaine and Kurt live in cities where the stars are hidden by light pollution and too far out of reach.

“I think I hate my boyfriend,” Blaine says suddenly. They’re halfway through the bottle of rum; the bedroom is thick with the scent of spice and the heat from the radiator in the corner. Katy is curled up between them, tail thumping to the beat of the song playing in the background.

Kurt knows that things will be easier if he doesn’t ask. He knows they can keep on doing this thing where they have unresolved issues between them but ignore them because it’s what they’ve always done. They had their chance long ago but blew it when they were too afraid to admit their feelings. Then they grew up, became men with responsibilities and commitments but still remained friends, even when no one they knew stayed friends past high school.

Then again, there’s always been something there that kept them fused together, influencing each other. When Kurt transferred from Dalton to McKinley, so did Blaine. When Blaine went to NYU, Kurt applied to every school in the city and eventually settled on the same one his best friend went to.

College changed them, though. It wasn’t that they were any less close than before; instead, they could live their lives separate from each other. Blaine graduated and moved back to the Midwest, settling down in the Windy City to teach. Meanwhile, Kurt stayed in New York, got an internship, and eventually landed a generously paying job at a newly in print fashion magazine. They still Skyped every week, even if they were busy as hell.

So instead of heeding his own mental warnings as they flit through his head, Kurt asks, “Why?”

Blaine shifts on the bed so that he’s leaning on his elbows and looking through the gap between Kurt’s knees to see his face. He says, “He isn’t you.”

Kurt reaches up and runs his hand over his face, wishing he could erase the last two sentences spoken in the room because there it is, out in the open. Those three words have haunted them for a decade and turned what should have been perfect relationships into disastrous blips on the radar of their personal histories. There’s absolutely no turning back; anything said from there on out will define their friendship for the rest of their lives.

Yet Kurt isn’t going to go down without a fight. If he doesn’t answer, if he doesn’t acknowledge that he heard Blaine admit that he measures all of his relationships on the one they never had, then maybe they can continue doing what they’ve always done: ignore the really fucking huge and fabulously pink elephant in the room.

When he doesn’t answer, Blaine says, “Kurt. Kurt, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Yes, you did,” Kurt says, cutting off Blaine’s painful backtracking. “You did mean it because it’s the same for me. Jack wasn’t you. Neither was Ben or James or Jorge. We’ve spent a third of our lives comparing our lovers to each other and it just isn’t fair - to them and especially to us.”

He sits up, disturbing Katy from her place between them. She flicks her tail angrily, jumps off of the bed, and scampers into the kitchen. The place where she vacated is warm, and Kurt places his hand there to feel the phantom body heat. Now he really _is_ all alone with Blaine.

Blaine places his hand on Kurt’s, brushes the soft skin with a callused finger. “Kurt, why did we never date in high school?”

“It was never the right time,” Kurt says. “We weren’t the right people back then. We had a lot of growing up to do and then by the time we did, our chance to be something more had already passed.”

There’s a beat of silence and then, “Do you believe in second chances?”

That’s what it comes down to, doesn’t it? The question that can make or break them, influence who they are and fully define who they’ve been. Kurt holds all the power over their relationship in that moment. He can say no and take a chance at losing the closest person in his life besides his father. He can say yes and let himself have the one thing he’s craved for ten years, the one thing he’s never felt he’s deserved, the one thing he’s afraid he’ll destroy once he gets it.

So Kurt leans forward, forehead resting against forehead, and makes a decision. His heart skips a beat as he says, “Yes,” and it’s so easy , so _natural_ that he knows it’s the right thing to say.

Blaine smiles brighter than Kurt has seen him smile in a long time. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his teeth seem to take up half of his face. When a nervous laugh echoes over the music playing in the background, Kurt realizes he’s smiling as well.

Their first kiss is what Kurt’s first kiss should have been ten years ago. It’s perfect and cathartic, like he’s been holding his breath for so long and now he’s finally allowed to let go.

“I’ve wanted to do that for _ten years_ ,” Blaine says against his lips when they pull back. “I’m so glad you didn’t say no. I don’t think I could have handled it.”

They fall onto the mattress and kiss again, legs tangling together and arms wrapped around like they’ll never let go. Kurt laughs because it feels like a dam has been opened, a nervousness that he could never pinpoint exactly. Maybe he still feared rejection after ten years. Maybe he was afraid of things not living up to his expectations. Kurt knows that things with Blaine will never be perfect, but it’s still Blaine, still the man who defined who he was for _ten years_.

“I love you,” Blaine says after they kiss for a while longer. Kurt wishes he could make a living just mapping out Blaine’s body. He’d start with his mouth, intimately detailing every kiss, every sound, and every nuance hidden within. “I always have.”

“I know.”

Kurt pushes himself up from the bed and swings a leg over to straddle Blaine’s hips. He never figured he’d be the one to do the leading. Whenever he thought about if they ever got together, his head would always fall back in that sixteen year-old’s body, waiting for Blaine to lead him.

Hovering over Blaine’s body feels right, though. The punctuated moans and gasps that he tears from Blaine with every bite and suck at his jaw, his neck, makes pleasure thrum throughout Kurt’s body. He’s more receptive than Kurt ever thought he’d be. Even at twenty-five- _twenty-six, isn’t that weird?_ \- Blaine is still a very restrained man, not prone to letting himself relax in front of anyone.

When the heat of the room and the heat of their bodies becomes too much, Kurt pulls his sweater up over his head and drops it to the floor. Blaine struggles with his t-shirt and groans in impatience when his pants get caught around his calves. When he tries to kick them off of his legs, he manages to up-end a stack of books and they topple to the ground. Kurt leans against Blaine’s chest as they laugh together.

Soon, laughing turns to kissing and petting and whispering, “ _I want you,_ ” and, “ _I need you._ ”

Kurt fits between the V of Blaine’s legs like they were molded especially for him. They kiss and rock together. It's not enough pressure to truly get off, but it's enough to feel good, so good. He could wish that the moment had been different, that it had come earlier - way earlier - than when Kurt’s twenty-five and Blaine’s twenty-six, but he doesn’t. There’s something comforting about this moment, despite the imperfections. It’s like a sigh of relief; like waiting and waiting and waiting for good news, and when it finally arrives, you wonder why you were worried in the first place.

Blaine’s fingers stroke up and down Kurt’s back like he’s moving them over the frets of his guitar. When Kurt sucks at his jaw, lips scratched by the spot he missed shaving, Blaine’s fingers move lower, lower, closer to the waist of his jeans.

“Can I?”

“Yeah.”

Fingers inch slowly under the waistband of Kurt’s briefs, making him shiver in anticipation. Blaine’s nails scratch lightly before they move further down his body. One hand spreads his cheeks apart and the other seeks out the tight ring of muscle and nerves, stroking and teasing. Kurt rocks forward, hips pressing as hard as they can into Blaine’s.

“Ow, Kurt,” Blaine hisses, fingers scrabbling at Kurt’s hips to push him off. “Your button-”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kurt says. He kneels, stands, and works at the fly of his jeans. “I’ll just....”

“Let me help.” Blaine tugs at the pants, peeling them down his legs. Even after a decade of changes in fashion trends, Kurt still wears sinfully tight jeans when the occasion calls for it. He uses Blaine’s shoulders to balance and steps out of the jeans finally, giggling like he hasn’t in a long time when he nearly falls off the bed.

They fall together once again, the position of tangling up with one another so, so familiar. Kurt curls into Blaine’s side and reaches his hand low to touch Blaine, hold him tightly his his hand to elicit moans and strings of expletives with no meaning. Watching Blaine’s face tense and relax when Kurt changes his grip on him is the most amazing thing he’s ever experienced.

“Kurt,” Blaine whimpers. “ _I want you._ ”

“ _I want you, too_ ,” Kurt whispers back, breath hot against Blaine’s neck.

Blaine rolls off of the bed in search of lube and a condom. Kurt pulls his briefs off and stretches out on the bed as he waits. He watches Blaine shift through some boxes on his bookshelf, looking for a condom even as he awkwardly tries to get his underwear down with one hand. The scene is so weird that Kurt can’t help but laugh.

“You look ridiculous hopping around like that,” Kurt says. “I’m not going anywhere, so slow down.”

Blaine looks over his shoulder, a rare blush gracing his skin. His underwear is pulled down below his ass, and it’s such a cute image that Kurt wants to snuggle Blaine and never let him go. He holds his hand out and says, “Come here.”

With a condom in his hand, finally, and lube waiting for them on the nightstand, Blaine falls into Kurt's arms. Kurt helps him out of his briefs and flips their position so that Blaine is the one straddling and Kurt is laid out, waiting. He takes his time taking in Blaine’s body, all of it - from where he’s gone soft around the edges from age to the hardness that grazes Kurt’s stomach.

Kurt says, “You’re so beautiful,” and Blaine leans down to capture his lips once again. With Blaine bent over, Kurt takes his time preparing him, opening Blaine up. Once they’re ready, once Blaine is begging for _more_ and Kurt’s wearing a condom, Blaine guides Kurt against him and in him.

His back arches from the overwhelming sensation of Blaine on him, around him, making him feel whole. Above Kurt, Blaine pants and squirms, trying to find the most comfortable position. Kurt whispers, “Blaine.”

“ _Kurt._ ”

They hold each other, move together, whisper sweet things in each others ears. Blaine tells him of all his secret fantasies, a decade worth of dirty thoughts he’s had about Kurt. The words make Kurt feel like he’s burning from the inside out and the only thing that’s keeping him from bursting into flames completely is Blaine.

He jerks Blaine in time with the movement of their hips. Their rum-scented pants mingle between them, and the radiator exaggerates the sweat dripping down their brows. Kurt isn’t going to last long and isn’t _that_ embarrassing. He figures that it’s just as well because Blaine always did make him feel like a teenager again.

“C’mon, Kurt,” Blaine says, and Kurt knows, right then, that Blaine is as close as he is. It may seem strange to anyone who cares enough to listen, but the two of them have always been in sync. From the moment they'd met, they’d affected each other’s gravity whether it was intentional or not, whether it was positive or not.

As they both come together for the first time, Kurt remembers each time someone approached him about Blaine. If it wasn’t, “ _Are you two dating?_ ” it was “ _You two would be perfect together_.” Those people were right; it just took them ten years to listen.

They slump together, bone-tired but so, so happy. He feels silly because there’s cum on his stomach and he’s still wearing a condom, but Blaine is smiling down on him like there’s nothing weird about it. Maybe there isn’t.

Kurt says, “I love you,” and then Blaine says, “I know.”


End file.
